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There was the realization that he might have just as well remained with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out. He had had his fill and it was time to move on, perhaps mosey down to St. Louis, New Orleans, or Arizona. Highly he felt that getting back home in 2000 was a no-go. It wasn't going to occur. He knew his location fairly well, the location of 2000, the geography of 1875 he was a little fuzzy on. And beings that it WAS 1875, Old West, it was smart to be wary and wary and on guard-- Indians were still mighty unsettled and outlaws wandered the wildlands, too.
A mountain path took him up into some rough nation, he invested a week just meandering around, finding a few stray livestock he assisted himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he determined that in the future he would simply purchase one from a restaurant. Fishing was better and he nailed one deer. Living in the rough was alright, he did miss out on the Ingalls' hospitality, Walnut Grove as a entire. His own grub was getting sporadic, the weather condition turning on him the higher he went, but he desired to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into brand-new territory he assumed would be one of the Dakotas, or possibly Iowa, maybe even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. His horse was not approving of the weather condition modification or the insistence of continuing the useless adventure. August had to agree-- he was getting no place fast. Another week went by, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, chased for miles by an even pissed off bear.
August was not amused and ended up being extremely wary. He wanted his internal Device had some sort of ability to see objects he himself might not see, or at least detect them, or something. He was at length able to relax the horse down, August strained to find and listen for himself what had spooked Tonto. He figured either a snake or Indians. Either one he was not cool with. Both were fatal, vicious, and lethal. He wanted no part of either among them. After backing his horse up a bit and securing him to a bush August slipped off into the rough, prowling, stopping briefly and listening . In one hand he bared a Colt revolver, the other hand a Bowie knife. He had a Springfield rifle with the horse.
There was nothing to hear but bugs buzzing. Absolutely nothing stirred. August made a few more stalwart prowlings and finally encountered a man. Setting susceptible upon the ground with a big bloodstain on his behind. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were currently swarming therefore August assumed that the man had actually been dead there for some time. Carefully August took out of the rough and as much as where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still actually alive. But hardly. He had been shot in the chest and had lost a lot of blood. He wasn't going to be alive for quite longer, August had no way of reaching any physician. The boy's ass muscles flexed as he aimed NOT to pump into his cousin's mouth. Arlene retched, gagged, choked, and nearly vomited as she slurped on the two dicks, the balls and too licked up Mark's crack. Arlene then needed to go back to the table and lay on it with her legs opened wide, hands to her side. Mark then had to go to her, on his knees, and lick her. Compliance was not exactly complied to quickly, the two teens did their best to stall and bring on-- requiring Dakota to once more get a holt of Adam's young head and wrench him upwards ... then in a flash the lad's wool trousers were down and he was bent over Dakota's knee, the trap door of the long underwear the kid used was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter packed into the lad's hole. Nothing was said. Absolutely nothing needed saying, Mark went to his knees, parted his cousin's cunny lips and proceeded in noshing. Dakota worked the barrel of the gun deeper into the young boy's rectum, sodomizing him nicely. His other hand he hung on to the lad's hair, holding it up securely, requiring him to enjoy as cousin Mark installed Arlene and entered her. BASING ON Mark's back Dakota took his turn and fucking young Arlene. He squeezed her nipples, nipped and bit them, creamed deeply into her pussy and jammed the barrel of the revolver up into her well deflowered fucked cunny, worked it around a bit and after that made her suck on the barrel.
Arlene was ruthlessly wrenched over and spanked hard, Mark needed to come and place himself on the table and insert his dick into her mouth. The ordeal was incredible. If he weren't so ruthless, Dakota was August's kind of male. She was further sodomized with Dakota's cock. There was absolutely nothing but still silence in the shack, only the crackling fire in the fireplace and the slapping balls versus Arlene's ass made the only noise. When done, Dakota wrenched Mark up from the floor and pressed his face into Arlene's tormented ass-- Lick it tidy! Dakota sneered. When Mark fought back to the revolting job of licking Arlene's orgasm packed asshole, Dakota then just wrench the lad into a brand-new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole tidy-- he mocked and shoved his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the kid's face-- Or you SUCK my cock!
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